I'm in Here
by that chill and windy way
Summary: "I'm in here! Do you hear me? I need your help, I need you to come..." Castiel shouted at the grey sky as he stumbled under the weight of his shackles. -Cas is insane and broken, their relationship is in pieces, but Dean believes they can glue it all back together again Buildup to and slash. Begins during 'Reading is Fundamental,' Season 7, Ep. 21.
1. Chapter 1

So this is my first time writing fanfiction - I thought I would just give it a try, and so far I'm really enjoying it. I'd also like to give credit to Sia's "I'm In Here" and (obviously) Supernatural for inspiration. Anyway, hopefully you like it and I'd love your feedback! :)

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Castiel held up the Sorry board. Oh, somewhere, someone was laughing. But Dean wasn't entertained. He only felt his suppressed anger roiling within him, threatening to explode like soda from a can.

"Do you want to go first?" Cas asked, innocently.

His hand tingled, wanting to punch the child across the table, wanting to shatter that calm face. His hand shot out and he picked up the top card of the deck.

They were wasting time. Their big break - hell, their only break - was lying broken in pieces because of Cas. And instead of fixing it, he was playing Sorry. Dean moved the plastic piece.

"..their power tree was amazing." Dean looked up, tuning in to Cas' utter nonsense. How could he live for thousands of years yet have the fascination of a toddler? Wrong question, he berated himself. He knew that answer.

"Cas, where can we find this Metatron? Is he still alive?" Dean did need those answered.

"I'm sorry, I think you have to go back to start." Cas said timidly, choosing to ignore him.

Dean willed himself to stay calm and returned his piece. He was getting nowhere.

"This is important." He urged.

But Cas only gestured towards the pile of cards.

Dean's patience was rapidly evaporating. He glanced at the card. Move back four. Really? How about something good? Not that the game mattered, of course.

"I think Metatron could stop a lot of bad, you understand that?" The bad you let in and won't try to fix. Dean added, bitter.

"We live in a sorry universe," was Castiel's response. Dean sighed under his breath. The angel's face was serious but his words were ridiculous. Dean's fingers tingled, longing to grip the angel and shake some sense into him.

"It's engineered to create conflict, I mean, why should I profit from your misfortune?" Dean watched his opponent kick his other piece back to start. Was this a joke? He was up to his teeth in shit and now he couldn't even win a board game. He deserved more.

"But these are the rules, I didn't make them." Cas finished.

"You made some of them - when you tried to become God, when you cut that hole into that wall." His voice was low and strained. Here was Cas, who had done so much wrong. Yet dad, Ellen, Jo, mom, who had done so much good, were gone. Why did Cas get life, get to play?"

"Dean...it's your move." He said, stubbornly avoiding reality.

"Forget the damn game!" Dean snapped, knocking the board off the table. "Forget the game, Cas." He repeated, reigning in his anger, hoping for some acknowledgement.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Cas said, automatically.

"No, you're playing sorry." Dean corrected. He had been playing sorry ever since he had woken up. The only time it had been real was for that brief time before he took on Sam's crazy. Dean looked down at Cas, who was collecting the scattered pieces. If only their world was as easy to put back together again. But reality was broken; they were broken, crushed under too heavy a burden. Dean shook his head. For all the angel's gibberish, he could see sorry as a metaphor for their universe. Their relationship was riddled with apologies. And, somehow, they always did seem to end up back at the start. He stared at the crouched form, the ruffled, black hair. Where was their friendship now? Dean's chest throbbed. Just the thought of Cas awakened a deluge of emotions: rage, hurt, rejection and a stirring sensation he couldn't place. Although, in the end, all he was, was confused.

Some cards slipped from Cas' hands. Dean remembered the first time he had seen the angel. He had struck an impressive figure, striding forward through cascading sparks. Dean's heart had pounded to thunder's drumming when Castiel's wings had expanded the length of the barn in lightning's light. His breathing had become ragged and strangled under the angel's intense blue gaze. He had been laid bare before his stare. And now that angel was hunched on the floor, his attention consumed by the plastic pieces and paper cards of a cardboard game.

Cas looked up, smiling and Dean instinctively shoved his thoughts away to deal with the situation on hand.

~~O~~

A few hours later, Dean sat in Rufus' basement. Incidentally, he was another who had died doing good. Dean shifted in the hard chair, his muscles cramping. He needed a bed. He needed a soft pillow. And some porn. Couldn't forget the porn. The corner of his mouth twitched when he imaged Busty Asian Beauties hovering around him.

Suddenly, he heard gasping and hurried words. His daydream dissolved, and he found himself still perched on the uncomfortable seat across from the next 'prophet,' who happened to be hyperventilating. You have got to be kidding me. Hadn't this day been long enough? Dean extricated himself from the chair and pressed a brown bag to the kid's mouth. Why did he have to take care of everything?

The kid calmed down and they returned to their previous positions. Dean shut his eyelids to block out the glowing lightbulb. The pen scratching away grew fainter and fainter. His heartbeat slowed.

Castiel stood in front of him, his wings projected on the barn's wall.

"Hello, Dean." The angel growled.

Dean felt his heartbeat pick up again, thumping in his chest. His breath caught in his chest, fluttering. "I didn't think you'd come back." He managed to say.

"Of course I came back." Cas replied, perplexed by his absurd concern. "You know me, always answering your calls." He grinned, shyly.

Dean blushed. He could tell from the surge of heat that crept up his neck, burning his cheeks. "Yeah, well, I need you...'re help." He cursed internally. Cas always made things awkward, always put him on edge, causing him to trip over his tongue.

"What do you need-help-with?" Cas asked, haltingly, in his gruff voice.

"I, uh, um..." Man, those eyes were like blue lasers.

"I know." Cas was instantly in front of him, not a step away. "I know what you need, Dean Winchester." The angel clarified, speaking in such a soft voice.

"You do?" Dean was taken aback. He couldn't see how, unless Cas could hear his palpitating heart, see his shaking hands, feel the shiver running up his spine. Then again, Cas was an angel. A friggin' angel. Sometimes, he still couldn't believe they were real.

"I am-your-angel, Dean." Cas amended, reading his thoughts.

Normally he would call that an invasion of privacy. But this was Cas, in his head, in him. His dick rubbed against his jeans. He felt jittery, excited.

Cas' gaze flickered down for a moment and the angel smiled his crooked smile. He reached out and put his hand on Dean's shoulder, incidentally, or perhaps not, over his handprint seared into the hunter's skin.

Dean caught his breath as Castiel tilted forward.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dean. Dean, I'm done." Someone was shaking his shoulder. He squinted against the bright light, annoyed.

"You're done?" Dean asked coarsely, trying to recall what was going on. His boots slipped off the table. "You finished writing it up?" He asked the kid, remembering.

"Yeah. It's all there." The boy gestured at the notebook.

"Good." Dean hastily got to his feet and began to move towards it. "Ohh," he groaned, gripping the table for support. His cock was still tender, although fortunately, he didn't think the boy had noticed the boner in his pants.

"Are you okay?" The kid asked, concerned.

"Fine." Dean growled, continuing to move along the table. He reached the notebook and picked it up, struggling to read the cramped handwriting. _Cas_. No. No, he had to think of something else: Leviathans. _Cas' fault._ The dream wasn't real. That Cas was gone. _The three bloods of the fallen._ Cas had fallen. Cas had fallen for him. Dean shook his head, attempting to organize his thoughts. He forced his internal monologue into silence, concentrating only on the words inked on the paper.

He spoke after a few moments. "Alright, let's go show this to the others. Good job, kid." Dean said, managing normalcy.

They stomped up the creaky stairs. Sam stood at their entrance; Cas was already standing. Dean wondered what they had been talking about.

"You wrote it down? All of it?" Sam asked, stepping forward.

Kevin nodded.

"And?" Sam turned to Dean.

"We got ourselves a weapon. Not any of that toxic detergent either. Here. Read it." He handed the notebook to his brother.

The resulting silence was extremely awkward. Dean didn't know what to do with himself. So he twiddled his thumbs and sat on his ass, making a point to avoid the angel in the room. His foot began to tap impatiently against the floor.

Sam stared at him.

Tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.

"Okay, seriously?" Sam asked.

Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Can't you read any faster?" He grumbled.

Sam just looked back down at the page.

Dean decided to get another beer. He tromped over to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle from the fridge. He turned around. Cas was standing right in front of him.

"What?" He asked, harshly to mask the pounding of his heart.

"It is truly amazing. When the Tower of Babel fell to ruin, and humanity was scattered over the Earth, no one believed your species would rule the planet. But you overcame the language obstacle. You even taught yourselves to read, to write and to translate." He tilted his head, smiling.

Dean shook his head, exasperated. To think, he had been worried Cas would be too vivid a reminder of his dream. There were hardly any similarities. Well, besides the vessel. And that low, rough voice. And possibly some of the mannerisms. Actually, Cas had been easily fascinated before, too; he was always pondering everything with those deep blue eyes that were so dark they could appear black. Although now, they were clearly blue. Electrifying, really, blazing with power.

Lightning flashed inside his mind. _Dean!_ A voice seemed to be shouting from far away before immediately ceasing.

He blinked. What had just happened? "Cas?" He asked, unsettled.

Cas seemed undisturbed. He had arranged Rufus' glasses on the counter, and was tuning them to various music notes.

"Dean?" The angel replied nonplussed, spinning his fingers around the rims of two glasses to blend his voice with the chiming harmony.

Dean rubbed his temple, troubled. Maybe it was his turn to go crazy. Who else but Cas could have spoken in his head, unless it was his own mind?


	3. Chapter 3

Dean was finally able to collapse on the sofa. He was exhausted. His eyes fell shut and he drifted to sleep.

He found himself on the bank of a wide river, his shoes sinking into the reeds and mud. It was drizzling, and the raindrops marred the water's smooth surface. The wind whistled by his ears, whispering words he couldn't discern. At first, his thoughts turned to a spirit. Yet there was nothing supernatural; it was all just his subconscious. A strange, slurping sound came from the river and he spotted a giant wave crest rushing towards him.

"Crap." Dean backed up and turned, hoping to outrun it. Moments later, though, the water was upon him, crashing down, soaking his clothes. He couldn't see. Water filled his mouth and pressed against him, battering his body. The sheer weight drove him to his knees. Darkness had gathered in the corners of his vision and starved for oxygen, he felt himself passing out.

But then the water was gone, the wave evaporated as if it had never happened. Dean coughed, gasping for air. He glanced around him, hyperaware. He was in a cemetery. Weeds sprouted from cracked headstones and wound around rusty fences. Parched, overgrown grass covered plots and vines twisted around the gnarled black roots of the trees. He got to his feet and pulled out his gun. Every shadow with its slender claws creeping forward hid a monster. Dry blades of grass crunched and shattered beneath his boots as he turned in a circle. The chill was only the wind, the smell, not sulfur but rotting leaves. He seemed to be alone. No, there. There was a figure off to his right. Dean lowered his weapon. He recognized that silhouette anywhere - the ruffled hair, that trench coat. Cas was facing away from him, standing next to a marble coffin on a raised platform.

The angel must have sensed him. He slowly turned, but as he did, thick chains rose up from the ground, snaking around his arms and legs. They coiled and coiled, trying to force him into a kneel. Castiel trembled from the effort to remain upright.

"Dean." He called.

"Cas?" The hunter's feet seemed glued to the ground.

"Listen to me. I'm here, I'm in here. You have to get me out."

"What -"

"Get me out, Dean."

Dean didn't understand. "How?" He shouted, but the wind had picked up and now roared, drowning out his voice. The naked branches of the trees scraped against each other and then Dean was rising through the air, soaring overhead.

"I'm in here! Do you hear me? I need your help, I need you to come..." Castiel shouted at the grey sky as he stumbled under the weight of his shackles.

Dean was powerless. His body had disappeared, leaving only mist. The cemetery zoomed out and he watched Cas below him strain against his heavy bonds, trying to wrench himself free.

Cas didn't seem to realize Dean was still there, suspended and invisible.

"Dean!" He directed his voice at the swollen clouds, willing it to transcend dimensions and reach the hunter.

"I need you to get me out!" He screamed, his voice cracking as the chains dragged him down.

"I'm in here! I'm in -" The angel crumpled onto the stone stage.

Dean woke up, his chest heaving. His green eyes were wide open, shining in the darkness.

"Cas." He whispered.

"Yes, Dean?" His head whipped around. Cas was standing by the window, the silver moonlight streaming over his trench coat.

"Are you...do you..." What was he supposed to say? Did he even know if his dream was real?

"How are you holding up?" He finally asked, lamely.

Cas chuckled. "I see everything, Dean. I hear everything. When you called me, I was listening to the arctic wolves converse. Do you know what they said?"

"Uh, Winter is Coming?"

Cas looked at him strangely. "No. Although, I'll admit, it is possible. I don't understand wolf. I meant they said 'AROOOOOOO.' He howled loudly.

Dean groaned.

"You understand, this was in various forms. The Alpha would stress the first syllable: A-" He began to demonstrate.

"Cas." Dean hastily interrupted.

The angel fell silent. Dean was watching him with a pained expression.

"Oh, Cas." He began huskily. "I don't know how much of this will get through to you, but-" He took a deep breath. "I never thanked you for fixing Sam."

He paused. "Actually, I never really thanked you for anything. And I'm going to fix you, you hear me? Don't think I'm not still pissed, I am. Now, I don't know if it's even possible for us to get back what we had, probably not, but, damn, I'm going to try." He looked at the angel, who was staring at the floor.

Dean stood up and approached him. "This," he gestured at the air between them, "is...beyond screwed to hell. Every mistake we made, though, that led us here, we made alone. I thought I knew what was right, I thought I could do it on my own, but I was wrong. I was wrong, Cas. I needed you - I think I still do. And you need me." He finished.

Cas raised his gaze to meet Dean's.


	4. Chapter 4

Cas raised his gaze to meet Dean's.

"You're right." The angel said quietly.

"I am?" Dean was shocked. He hadn't thought it would be this easy.

"Yes. I've been - struggling - with the same for some time." The angel reached into his trench coat.

Dean's pulse quickened.

"I, well, I've been meaning to play monopoly but I couldn't do it on my own. I need you, Dean." He pulled out the box. "I choose the dog, but you can have the iron or wheelbarrow." He held the two pieces in his outstretched hand, looking up at the hunter expectantly.

Dean ran his hand over his mouth, trying to cover the way his lips were tugging down at the corners. He began to shake his head. Without a word, he spun around and made for the back door.

"Or you can have the car!" Cas entreated.

Dean paused, his hand on the doorknob. "Not now, Cas." He growled sharply, before walking into the night.

The screen slammed shut behind him.

~~O~~

Dean stepped down from the porch and onto the sidewalk. He headed straight for the dark forest, stars twinkling above him in a sapphire sky. He began to walk faster, stepping over scattered twigs and pine needles. Thorns and burrs latched onto his jeans as he shoved his way through the brush. He stopped when the treetops completely obscured the night sky, breathing deeply.

"Damn it, Cas!" Dean shouted abruptly, his arm lashing out to punch a nearby tree.

He inhaled sharply, relishing the physical pain that for a moment, had blocked his emotions.

Hadn't he given it all? What more could he possibly offer?

His other arm swung out to hammer the chipped bark.

Cas was the one who had betrayed him. Cas was the one who had burned and murdered and absorbed Pandora's Box. Why was he, Dean, the one suffering?

He threw punches at the tree in time with each word, pounding his fists into the wood again and again.

Why was he expected to fix everything? Why was he always responsible for cleaning up others' messes? Dean looked up, wanting to tear down the entire green canopy until it lay littered on the ground.

"Cas, you friggin' son of a bitch!" He shouted to the empty forest.

Where was Cas' retribution? His punishment?

The image of Cas holding out monopoly swam to the forefront of his mind.

Was crazy his punishment? Did Cas even realize he was being punished?

But, didn't he want to fix Cas? A small voice reminded him.

Dean wrestled to sort his thoughts. What did he want? He stared down at his hands, contemplating the answer. The rough bark had caused the skin to split over his knuckles and blood now ran down his fingers, smearing across his palms.

What did he want?

He felt hollow, yet simultaneously so entirely filled with emotion that it surged against his sides, locked within him and searching for an escape. He wanted so many things, but he knew, Cas was at the core of it all.

First, Cas had betrayed him. Cas had left him behind, flying miles ahead on his strong wings. Then, Cas, old Cas, had reemerged, repenting. But it didn't matter, of course it hadn't, when did it ever? He had still disappeared beneath that water.

Dean felt a frown line his face and his eyesight blurred.

He had been abandoned. He had hoped (how could he not?) that Cas would reemerge, would return like he had always done previously. Yet the weeks dragged on and on and Cas remained gone.

Dean leaned against the battered tree for support, his fingers cold under the drying blood.

Then, then! Cas had come back, dredging up every memory, every feeling he had been trying to bury. There had been no real apology, or had there been? He didn't know anymore. Cas didn't deserve to return, the angel had said as much. Cas had healed Sam, but he, Dean, what did he get?

Dean blinked and the tears clung to his eyelashes and brimmed over, trickling down his face.

You got Sam, alive and sane. A voice nagged.

Yeah, but why did he still feel empty? How come when Cas had lifted Sam's crazy, Dean's mood hadn't lifted with it?

What did he want? His thoughts spun in circles.

He wanted Cas to pay for what he'd done. Wasn't he already? The voice asked.

He wanted Cas to...to...he wanted old Cas back. He wanted the Cas he dreamed of...

And those dreams. Wrong. His every instinct told him to cringe away from them, yet he only grew hot. 'Cas' seemed to beat like a mantra, pounding alongside his pulse.

What did he want? The voice returned, speaking slyly.

The answer was right in front of him, practically glowing.

~~O~~

Far above him, from the tree's topmost branch, an invisible angel took off on invisible wings.


	5. Chapter 5

I apologize for this taking so long to put up. However, I have finished the entire story - so there won't be anymore waiting! Hope you all like it!

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Dean was kneeling on the ground. Cas ignored the tall monsters and growling creatures that laughed as they crept forward from the trees. They had been circling Dean from the moment he entered the forest, but Cas had decided they were just reaching shadows and not real after all. Cas felt a little guilty for watching Dean when he had obviously gone out of his way for privacy. And since the black goblins and demons seemed to only be his own delusions, he figured Dean was safe enough without him. Cas lifted off from where he was perched, gliding over the leafy treetops and descended onto the pavement. Walking was slow, but tonight, flying felt too fast. Only, someone stood on the sidewalk, blocking his way.

"Crowley." Cas said, the memories flooding back.

"Castiel - back in the flesh. This is a sight." He smiled, but Cas didn't think he seemed very happy.

Castiel didn't know how to respond. An awkward silence swelled in the air.

"Just as talkative as before, I see. You're not still playing God, are you?"

Images flickered in the corners of his subconscious. "Playing God? No, I've been playing Sorry."

Crowley paused for a second, trying to comprehend his answer before deciding to just ignore it. "Well, I've been waiting for you to visit. We have a lot to discuss, you know. Threats. Broken agreements."

"I sense, you're angry."

Crowley gave Cas a small, smile. "A bit, yes. I -"

"Please, let's not talk about that. Anger usually leads to fighting and loud voices. Earlier, I watched two wolves tear each other apart over a disagreement. Personally, I think it would be much better if they were more like bees, or really, any insect. You don't see butterflies fighting over territory. There are always plenty of flowers."

Crowley raised his eyebrows. "You've lost your marbles, is that it?" He guessed astutely.

"No. I have them here." Cas patted his trench coat pocket. "But let's play jacks instead." The shiny pieces instantly scattered on the sidewalk.

"I can't say I'm surprised. You always were a bit touched." Crowley sighed. "I had so much it store for you. But I can't make you go crazy if you're already there." He complained, more to himself than to Cas.

"No doubt that's why those Winchesters failed to tell me of your return. I cannot wait until I have a reason to claw their eyes out as well." His smile was a bitter grimace.

Castiel reigned in his toss and looked up. "You won't."

Crowley laughed. "Still set on protecting them. Tell me, did they welcome you back with open arms? Were they glad to see their guardian angel again?"

Cas watched the Sorry board skid across the floor, Dean kneeling between black trees, spent and bloody...then the images faded, giving way to the dark neighborhood street. Cas looked up just in time to see the clouds stretch and tear so that their faces lengthened and frowned down in disapproval.

"What? They didn't? I'm shocked." Crowley said in a tone that made Castiel suspect he was employing what Dean called sarcasm. He could still hear Dean's exasperated voice explaining the concept as though it had been days, and not years, ago.

"You know what I think? You shouldn't take their crap anymore. Here you are always protecting them, saving them, etc. etc. and what do they do for you? Ditch you in a mental hospital? Why don't we roast them together?" Crowley nudged.

"You will not harm them." Cas said stubbornly with some of his old command.

"Neither? How about just Dean - he always was the bigger prick in my ass." Crowley prodded, enjoying provoking the angel.

He was not disappointed. Cas stepped forward, finally angry.

Crowley retreated, hands up. "Sam then. You can have Dean all to yourself." He winked.

Unbidden thoughts stampeded through Castiel's mind.

"Ah, yes, I thought as much." The demon's cold eyes watched the angel carefully, scrutinizing his reaction. "You and I, we're not so unlike."

Cas' eyes narrowed in contempt.

"I'm merely more experienced." Crowley paused, contemplating. "I could help you, you know." He offered.

"I don't need your help."

Crowley laughed again. "You know you do. Come, I'll show you." He disappeared.

Cas hesitated for a second before following. The discarded jacks shone like silver in the moonlight.

Castiel barely had time to take in the abandoned cathedral and faint smell of oil before a ring of fire raced to surround him. Crowley smiled pleasantly from outside the trap, his face lit by the orange flames.

"That was embarrassingly easy."

"Let me out, Crowley." Cas growled, chagrined.

"Not yet, Cassy. I'm going to help you, remember?"

The demon rolled his eyes. "No need to look at me like that. I meant what I said. Save the dewy-eyed reproaches for your boyfriend, will you?"

"He's not, he isn't..." Cas floundered.

Crowley's lips pulled back as he grew slender fangs that glinted in the firelight. "No. That's why I'm here."

~~O~~

Cas took in his surroundings. The flames still burned bright in the grey half-light of dawn. Faded limestone stood in rickety towers and crumbling piles where the cathedral's east wall had fallen in, spilling bricks onto the long grass. Dusty stained glass panels lay dark and dormant, like gaping holes in the facade. A white angel, sculpted in Greek drapery rose high on a spire beneath a sky blanketed in thick clouds. Weeds throttled the grass stalks and ivy crawled over the stones, shoving leafy fingers into the cracks.

"Cas?" A voice spoke out behind him.

Cas whirled. Dean was partly crouched in the shadow of the cathedral, green eyes wide with caution.

"Where are we? What happened?" Dean asked urgently.

"St. Clarence. Canaan, New Hampshire. Crowley trapped me."

"Where's Crowley now?"

"Gone."

Dean straightened. "Probably not for long." He moved towards the ring of flames.

"Thank you, Dean." Cas said, grateful.

Dean stopped abruptly and stared at him across the glowing blaze. "You think I'm going to let you out?" He laughed cruelly.

"You deserve this. You deserve to burn in hell, not walk the Earth." His face scrunched in disgust as though he were talking to a brainless beetle.

Castiel reeled back, watching as Dean's jaw dropped open and his skin stretched taunt over bone, pale and rotting. He saw the hunter's green eyes morph into black.

"Did you think you saved me? You should have left me down there, Cas. You made this world a worse damnation than Crowley could ever dream of."

Cas wished he could fly away. He withdrew, trying to imagine he was someplace else. He was beside a waterfall that plunged miles over the cliff side like a silver train of tears. He was in a sea of blue and purple wildflowers, where the sheep resembled plump white clouds. Or he was beside an eagle, soaring over a lush green forest, green, like Dean's eyes. Reality came screaming back. Dean was still there, but restored and beautiful, his green eyes still boring into his. Green, haunted eyes that had endured too much. Had he been the cause of some of that pain? Cas wondered distraught, sure of the answer.

"I didn't mean...I had good intentions..." Castiel felt pressured to explain, but his words kept evaporating. Dean began to turn away.

Cas, frantic, finally heard his voice grow stronger. "I did it for you Dean!" Dean paused.

He would explain better this time. He would make Dean understand. "I did all of it for you! Raphael was going to destroy everything we saved and throw away everything we sacrificed! I had to make those decisions! There-isn't-always a right choice, only a better choice - you can't blame me!"

Balthazar now stood next to Dean, his shirt dark around a deep stab wound. "I blame you." The dead angel declared. "Was killing me the 'better' choice, friend?"

"And me?" Sophia, an angel from the garrison, asked, appearing beside him.

"And me?" Elijah echoed.

Ghost images flickered outside the flames, crowding in to accuse Castiel, to remind him of their bodies littering heaven with splayed wings at his feet.

"No! No, stop. Don't blame me!" The figures faded into mist, the fire was gone, he stood in the forest near Rufus' house.

"I'm not, Cas! I don't blame you!" Dean was there, shaking his shoulders with cut and bloody hands.

"I did it for you, all of it, everything." Didn't he understand yet? "It was always for you, Dean!" Cas said desperately, clasping onto the hunter's sleeves for support, finding those green eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean forced himself to get up. The knees of his jeans were damp from the moist leaves and when he tried to brush off the dirt, he only managed to add bloodstains to the fabric. He made his way back with his feet guiding him, his mind far from the path between the trees. He still felt as weighted down as before, like he carried a Titan's burden within his chest. His revelation hadn't really changed anything - although he suspected that was because part of him had already known. In fact, the knowledge only made him feel worse.

"...I had good intentions..."

Dean started. He recognized that voice. Was Cas here now? Or was his mind playing a trick on him?

He surveyed his surroundings. The forest floor sloped downwards. Dark shadows and silhouettes were barely distinguishable in the shade of the full canopy. His ears strained to hear over the noise of chirping crickets, rustling leaves and a creek gurgling in the distance. Just when Dean decided he hadn't heard Cas after all, the angel's voice rang out loud and clear:

"I did it for you, Dean! I did all of it for you!"

Dean set off towards his voice, crashing through the branches, perplexed and anxious.

"Raphael was going to destroy everything we saved and throw away everything we sacrificed!"

He skidded down slanted ground and stopped in a tiny clearing. Cas was there, looking the same as before. Except, no, Dean took that back. He no longer wore the hospital garments under his trench coat, but dress clothes - the tie, the white shirt, and dark pants - which were so reminiscent of past times. Dean briefly wondered where he had picked up those clothes, but then decided there were more important things to worry about. Castiel was talking fervently to a tree in front of him, his voice cracking with desperation. And when the words finally filtered through Dean's ears, he found himself paralyzed. This was the apology. This was the explanation.

"I had to make those decisions! There-isn't-always a right choice, only a better choice - you can't blame me!" Cas shouted, pained but defiant.

Yet before his eyes, Castiel seemed to shrink inwards. The angel's gaze swiveled in an arc: first, directly at Dean, then on to the air next to him, all the while, retreating further and further back. Agitated, he began to pace in a small circle. Dean could see the invisible demons taunting him through Cas' wide eyes, and he ran to his friend, who shook from imaginary torture.

"Cas, it's okay! It's not real. It's not real." Dean said, holding onto the angel's arms.

"No! No, stop. Don't blame me!" Cas twisted from his grasp, stumbling.

"I'm not, Cas! I don't blame you!" Castiel looked straight at him, but Dean couldn't tell if his blue eyes saw him.

"I did it for you, all of it, everything. It was always for you, Dean!" Cas said desperately.

"I know. Cas, you hear me? I know now. It's okay." He spoke calmly, trying to get through to him.

"You, you know?" All his strength seemed to drain from his body and Dean found himself holding Cas up.

"Yes," Dean answered softly.

Castiel fought to make sense of things. "Dean. Is...this...real? He asked, hesitantly.

"Yes, Cas. Absolutely." Dean warned himself not to get too excited, yet it was impossible to ignore his heart pounding drums in his chest and the heat radiating from Cas' skin. "Can't you tell?" Dean's breath caught, hoping.

Castiel only looked at him, his eyes bright from reflecting the moonlight. "I don't know. Reality is a nightmare and the delusions are even worse. But this seems..." He shied away.

"What does this seem like?" Dean prodded.

"This...seems too good to be true." Cas looked away, uncomfortable.

Dean laughed, the sound lightening the dark forest. It was a nice sound to hear after so long. He clapped Cas on the shoulder, chuckling to himself. "Too good to be true…that's certainly a new take on things." He said, embracing the absurdness of it all.

Cas' lips twitched, feeling lighter than he had in a long, long time. Nevertheless, he responded serious and stubborn. "This isn't a joke."

Dean sobered up. "Trust me, I know."

Cas watched him with wide blue eyes. "I do trust you." Cas said simply, with his characteristic intensity.

Dean glanced away, biting his lip. He never knew how to respond to those comments. Especially when Cas' blue eyes followed him unwaveringly, as they did now.

"So, you aren't angry with me?" Cas asked.

"No, Cas. Not anymore." He paused. "I'm just glad you're back."

But Cas was shaking his head. "How can that be true? I'm not even glad to be back.

All I did was leave everything in ruins. I thought I could save you from more hurt and pain by taking care of it myself. But I see now, I never saved you." Castiel continued, reflective. "I'm sorry, Dean. I wish I could take it all back and never enter that barn in the first place. You would have been better off."

Dean listened, his expression becoming more incredulous with every word. He then faced Castiel when the angel finished. "Cas, that's a load of crap." Cas frowned, surprised, but Dean plowed on. "You would rather give up everything than try and fix this. You better not go back in time and change anything or, I swear, I'll find you and make you change it back. Don't think you can just erase my memory either."

"I only meant, I…I was trying to apologize to you, Dean! I thought that was what you wanted to hear."

"Yeah, well, it's not. Don't ever say this was a mistake." Dean said resentfully.

"Dean." Cas began in a soft tone without any trace of anger. "This was nothing but mistake after mistake. If I could make you forget, I would in a second."

"You don't mean that." Dean's voice was hollow.

"I do." Cas responded, not unkindly.

"But," Dean's eyes searched his. "All the fighting we did together, all the people we did save, all the moments…" He blushed. Moments, really? "I mean…" He thought of Cas walking through dazzling sparks and flinging open doors. Cas, his friend, by his side. Cas' black hair and blue eyes and his cheekbones, his jaw…his wings… "Damn it, Cas!" Dean growled. "The point is, don't you dare take this away from me. The first time I saw you was one of the best days of my life."

Cas considered that for a few seconds. "You stabbed me."

"Yeah, well, I thought you were some majorly powerful demon." Dean countered.

Castiel nodded, conceding. They surveyed each other over the fallen leaves and gnarled roots.

"I -" Dean started.

"Do –" Castiel spoke out at the same time.

They both fell back into silence.

"You first. Go ahead." Dean said.

"Do you know why I have such difficulty handling Sam's insanity?"

Dean wasn't sure where this was heading. "No…"

"Because the illusions are more logical and reasonable than reality. They make sense. I should be punished, you should be angry and shouldn't want me here, and…" He stopped.

"And?"

"I think part of me thought it would be easier to become crazy. I thought I would be able to handle you better."

"Handle me better? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Every day, to be close to you but to not be yours…it drove me insane. Figuratively. Then literally." Cas mumbled, his eyes flickering between the ground and Dean.

"To not be yours." Dean echoed. He couldn't breathe; the air had turned to water and his heart was frozen in his chest as if time flowed like tar.

"For how long?" Dean finally said hoarsely.

"Since I first touched your flayed skin. Although I did not understand until a little later." Cas confessed, his eyes vast blue pools.

Dean remembered how the knowledge had burdened him not fifteen minutes ago and imagined carrying that for years. "I had no idea. Everybody always said, but I didn't believe…"

"I know, Dean." A hint of a smile played around Cas' lips.

Dean watched those lips and stepped forward, closing the space between them. "But now I do," he said. They stood only inches from each other; Dean's eyelashes were practically brushing Cas and he could feel the angel breathing softly. Then, they succumbed to the tension pulling them together. Dean kissed Cas, in his haste, more on the skin than his lips. Cas kissed back, his mouth opening under Dean's. His skin was a little rough but his lips were soft. The lines of Cas' face were so familiar and Dean wanted to trace it all. Still joined, Dean's left hand ran up Cas' neck and into his short black hair while his right found the trench coat and worked it off the angel's shoulder. Cas broke free and looked down at the trench coat, hesitant to lose it. Yet when he met Dean's stare, any reluctance vanished and he quickly pulled the rest off, letting it drop to the ground. Dean grabbed his tie and deftly undid the knot. Cas watched him patiently for a second before he leaned forward and kissed Dean again, his hands framing his face. Cas felt Dean smile, then shoved him back against a tree. Cas slid the hunter's jacket off, flinging it to the side, all while staring at Dean. In response, Dean pulled his shirt up and over his head in one graceful movement, his muscles rippling beneath his smooth flesh. He felt suddenly vulnerable before Cas' intense gaze and goosebumps speckled his arms in the crisp air.

"Cas," Dean said huskily.

The angel said nothing, but reached out and ran his hand up Dean's inner thigh, watching for his reaction. Dean inhaled sharply as he repressed a shiver. Dean felt wide awake despite the lateness of the hour, his senses buzzing and overstimulated. He raised his hand and gripped Cas' now loose tie, drawing him forward so that Cas was conveniently pressed up against his uncomfortably tight pants. Dean fumbled with the buttons of Cas' white dress shirt and finally tore it off him. With surprise, Dean realized that in the same time Cas had removed the remainder of his own clothes and he now stood naked before the angel, his jeans and underwear yanked down to his ankles.

"What the..." Dean lifted his feet out of his clothes, perturbed that Cas had been so efficient and that he hadn't even been aware of it.

Cas grinned then stripped. Dean couldn't tear his gaze away, and felt disconnected, unable to believe that this moment was actually here. Heat shot up his body, flushing his neck and he felt a tug in his groin, urging him forward. But Cas, again, moved faster and drove Dean down to the ground, his knees bending back to accommodate, one of the angel's legs between his own. Dean was giddy and excited and while Cas clutched at his chest, a sudden release caused a wetness to drip down his thighs as if he was an over-aroused schoolboy. If Cas felt it, he didn't let on, but continued working his way down Dean's chest, kissing and biting and licking the shallow contours of his muscles. And finally, finally, Cas' mouth glided over, back and forth along his shaft making Dean moan and arc his back. With another sigh, Dean was powerless to stop another release which filled Cas' mouth with clear liquid that he promptly swallowed before letting his tongue return to licking, around and around.

When Dean felt sure he couldn't endure it any longer, he seized Cas' shoulder, dragging him up so they were once more face to face. Cas' lips tasted both salty and sweet and he smelled like the pine needles that resided in his hair and like...well, like Cas.

"Cas." Dean murmured as his awe at the moment washed over him once more. Cas was pressed up against his body. And Cas must have seen something in Dean's expression, because he stopped and looked at him inquisitively, his eyes unbelievably wide.

"You're an angel." Dean explained ruefully in response to the silent question.

"I know." Castiel said, nonplussed, his brow wrinkling.

Dean laughed. "I'm fucking an angel." He kissed the angel. "I'm fucking a male angel." He clarified, kissing him again - longer this time. "I'm fucking you, Cas." He said as their lips separated. "But no matter how many times I say it, aloud or in my head, it never seems more real than a dream."

Cas ran a hand up his chest. "A dream can be real," he said, his blazing blue eyes boring into him. Dean watched Cas' throat contract and move as the angel formed words. Everything about Cas was so fascinating, so beautiful.

"Well, a dream is a dream and I don't intend to waste any second of it." Dean smiled mischievously and slipped out from under Cas, wriggling over the unyielding roots to get to his knees, positioning himself in back of the angel. Soon, Cas was groaning and grunting and Dean was breathing harder with every thrust. They went again and again until Dean was spent. Yet even then, Cas had not tired and squirmed to the side, tugging Dean so that his forearms sank into the leaves and dirt, and took his place.

At last, Cas tumbled to the ground next to him. They lay exhausted on the uneven earth, their bodies glistening with sweat. Crickets chirped in the darkness and a light breeze rustled through the leaves. Dean shivered slightly as his sweat evaporated in the cool air and he moved closer to Cas, whose skin felt feverishly warm in comparison. Cas looked at him with stars in his eyes and gave him a small smile. Lying there, Dean finally felt peaceful and safe; resting, not on the rough roots and sharp twigs that dug into his back, but instead, on the plushest velvet or softest cloud.

* * *

That's everything guys! Thanks to everyone that read this and I hope you enjoyed it!


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